


only you, poindexter

by Nearly



Series: hurt/comfort bingo [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nearly/pseuds/Nearly
Summary: dex gets hurt while renovating the haus. nursey fixes everything :)
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter
Series: hurt/comfort bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817455
Comments: 1
Kudos: 65





	only you, poindexter

**Author's Note:**

> this is a hurt/comfort bingo prompt fill for a friend on tumblr, which i wrote months ago and completely forgot to post...oops

The Haus is nearly empty this afternoon, and for once Dex thinks it’s kind of nice. He’s used to a house full of rowdy people, going from living with a pile of siblings in Maine to living with a pile of hockey players at Samwell, but sometimes a quiet day alone is exactly what he needs. 

As it happens, it’s just him and Nursey in the building right now, which means he’s got time to focus on some of the repairs he’d been putting off while dealing with the duties that come with being the newly-appointed captain of a hockey team. And by repairs, he  _ really  _ means refurbishing the rest of the basement—because while his bungalow is lovely, it only takes up about half the space, and the other half is a mess of old shelving and at least one ancient, forgotten gym sock. He’s not entirely sure it actually belongs to anyone who still lives here. 

Ignoring the gym sock is his first course of action. He doesn’t want to think about that thing until he has to. Second course of action: dealing with the shelving. It’s old, but most of the boards are salvageable if he’s careful. Maybe he can turn it into a tv cabinet, make a game room of some sort? The team would like that. 

Dex turns his music up a notch and gets to work, stacking the still useful wood in one corner while he piles the more splintered pieces off to the side to get rid of later. He settles into a rhythm, focusing on the easy movements and letting the music wash over him. It’s nice. He loses himself in it, as he tends to do, and doesn’t even realize how long he’s been at it until he hears footsteps on the basement stairs. 

“Hey, I brought you lunch,” Nursey says, when he gets to the bottom step. Dex pauses and looks up. He grins when he sees the sloppily piled sandwich Nursey is holding out to him.

“Thanks, man.” 

Nursey hops off the last step, munching on his own sandwich and eyeing the pile of boards curiously. He looks back again when Dex reaches for the plate, about to ask something, but his eyes catch on Dex’s sleeve and he does a rapid double take.

“Holy  _ shit  _ Dexy, your arm,” he says, alarmed. Dex frowns. 

“What?” he pulls his arm back, looks down, and does his own double take. There’s a cut on his forearm, bleeding sluggishly. He doesn’t even know how long it’s been there, because Dex had apparently been so deeply focused on pulling apart the shelves that he hadn’t noticed. 

“...Oh,” he says slowly, “I didn’t notice.”

It’s started to sting, now that he’s looking at it, now that he knows it’s there. Dex winces, cradling it closer to his chest. Nursey drops his sandwich on top of Dex’s and puts the plate down so he can reach for Dex’s arm. 

“Let me see it,” he says. He takes Dex’s wrist with a gentle hand, rotates it so he can see the cut. Dex tries not to blush at the contact, but he can feel the tips of his ears heating up in a way that means he’s failed, badly. 

Nursey prods at the cut, making Dex hiss. 

“Ow, hey!” he yelps, trying to jerk back. Nursey keeps his grip firm, shooting him a look. 

“What, you can feel it now, but not five minutes ago?” he asks, sounding half annoyed. Dex frowns, and he  _ swears  _ it’s not a pout. It’s  _ not _ . 

“I wasn’t looking at it five minutes ago,” he grumbles. 

“How did you even get this?” Nursey asks. The cut is bleeding more steadily now, probably because Nursey keeps poking at it. 

“Caught myself on a nail or something?” Dex guesses. He doesn’t really know. He really, honestly, didn’t notice. Nursey sighs and shakes his head. 

“Only you, Poindexter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Nursey ignores him. Dex can’t say he’s surprised. 

“Shit, man, it’s deeper than it looks,” Nursey mutters, and when he finally looks up his eyes are a little wide. “I don’t know much about first aid, or whatever, but I think you might need stitches.” 

“Seriously?” Dex groans. He was just trying to fix up the basement to make a nice space for the team, and now he has to go get  _ stitches?  _ The universe must hate him. 

“Yeah, seriously. Come on, let’s go.” Nursey pivots and heads for the stairs, glancing back just long enough to make sure Dex is following. Reluctantly, he does. 

When he makes it to the top of the stairs, he finds Nursey losing what little “chill” he had when he first found Dex bleeding all over the basement. The guy is turning the living room over, searching frantically for...something. He tosses an old dish towel to Dex and says, “Put pressure on that. You’re dripping.” 

Dex glances down. He is, in fact, dripping on the hardwood. Oops. He does what he’s told and presses the towel to his arm, grimacing when it stings more harshly than before. 

“Nursey,” he tries, when he hears him curse quietly, pausing in his rummaging to look critically around the room. “It’s not that bad. I can walk myself to the med center.” 

“Nah,” Nursey says, “it’s halfway across campus, I’m not letting you walk all the way there with your arm bleeding all over the place.” 

He straightens up a moment later with his keys dangling from one hand. As far as Dex can tell, they’d been lost in one of the ripped couch cushions. There’s a small tuft of stuffing caught in the keyring. 

His smug grin makes Dex’s heart go all gooey, and that’s just disgusting, because he’s a six-foot-two college hockey player and his heart shouldn’t go all gooey over  _ anything,  _ except maybe his dog. Or Nursey. Whatever. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Nursey says, breaking Dex out of the rabbit hole his mind is wandering down. He sets a warm palm on his shoulder and steers him out the door.

“Don’t bleed on my seats, Poindexter,” Nursey warns. Dex glares at him. 

“Oh, sorry for being  _ wounded,  _ how dare I make a mess of your  _ beautiful  _ car—” 

“Hey, I’m supposed to be the dramatic one. You coming after my job?” 

Nursey grins again, fondly this time, and Dex’s heart melts in his chest. Really, it’s not fair that he has that power. What the hell. 

The drive to the med center is short, and once the nurse sees the bloody towel pressed against Dex’s arm, the wait is even shorter. He’s in and out before he knows it, and the whole thing starts to feel a little over dramatic for a silly cut on his arm. He’s fine, barely more than a couple of stitches and an order not to do anything that might strain them for the next week or so. He’ll be fine in time for the next game. 

Even so, Dex lets Nursey hover and check him over when they get back to the car. It’s not like he needs to, because obviously the nurse has done her job; but Dex has to admit, he likes the attention. When it comes from Nursey, at least. 

“I’m fine,” Dex assures him, finally, after his third or fourth glance over during the ten minute drive back to the Haus. Dex thinks he catches the barest hint of an embarrassed flush across his cheeks when he realizes he’s been caught looking. 

“Only you, Poindexter,” Nursey snorts, “Only you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> as always drop some kudos, a comment, or yell at me on [tumblr](https://buckthehalls.tumblr.com/)


End file.
